


Prove It

by LiveAndLetLive



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confused John, Developing Relationship, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Emotional Sherlock Holmes, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sherlock Holmes is a Bit Not Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 20:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17567708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveAndLetLive/pseuds/LiveAndLetLive
Summary: Sherlock stepped even closer. "I'm giving you the opportunity to kiss me. Right now. If you object to it, I will not give you the chance again."





	1. Prove It

Sherlock had been preparing for this day all week. Never in a million years did he think he'd find himself doing something like this, but he assumed John would be doing it too. It felt right. He had just finished grating Parmesan cheese onto the spaghetti bolognese, when one more set of footsteps than he'd anticipated walked up the stairs, the occasional giggling piercing his ears. He turned to see the door open.

There, John was stood with a woman. More specifically a women withholding the fact that she was much older than John, worked as a secretary in a failing business and had trust issues. Sherlock didn't care at all about that stuff: he was too angry.

"John! What on Earth are you doing?" Sherlock glared, utterly offended by her presence. John was startled by Sherlock and a little annoyed at his interruption. He really liked that woman and was about to tell her the punch line to his joke. He didn't really think he was that funny, but she had been laughing at him the entire date. Maybe she liked him. It _was_ going well- he's not having this turn out like all the other women Sherlock had scared off.

He turned to her with a polite smile. "Will you excuse us for a moment?" Her eyes shifted between the two before giving a hesitant nod. John marched up to him, grabbed Sherlock by his elbow, and pulled him to his bedroom.

"What have I done now, Sherlock?" John asked whilst pushing the door, not closing it completely: he wanted some privacy but he also didn't want to come across as rude. "Why would you bring a woman here?" Sherlock inquired, looking at him like John had just slapped him in the face. John frowned. "Um... because I like her?" He thought that much was obvious. "Yes, but why on our anniversary? Of all the days you could have chosen." Sherlock was utterly exasperated.

John blinked.

"An-anniversary? What? I don't..." John spluttered, having no idea how to put his racing thoughts into words.

"Twenty-ninth of January: when we first met." He listed off coolly. Eyebrows furrowing, he muttered a glum "You didn't remember."

John almost felt bad.

"W-no. Sherlock, that's not how it...works. We aren't a couple." John stated, more to himself than he was admitting.

"Why can't we be? Do you not find me attractive?" Sherlock asked, stepping forward confidently. The fact was, he really wasn't confident and he had no idea what he was doing. He knew, however, that he found John attractive. Yes, it took him quite a while, but he got there. John, however, still needed a bit more time.

John's eyes widened and he stepped back, unconsciously closing the door. "W-well I-I don't find you _not_ attractive but-but-"

"-But 'You're not actually gay'. Yes, I remember." Sherlock said, although his eyes did not ease up on their challenging gaze. At this comment, John should have felt relief. He should of felt an air of 'we understand each other, then'. He really didn't. He certainly didn't when Sherlock stepped closer still, their heads only ten centimeters apart.

Softer this time, Sherlock uttered a quick "Prove it." John knew that at this, they had gone past the point of no return; their relationship would hang in the balance, its fate only decided by the choices he would next make. But all that came out of his mouth was "I'm sorry?"

Sherlock stepped even closer. "I'm giving you the opportunity to kiss me. Right now. If you object to it, I will not give you the chance again."

Shit. Why did he feel conflicted? The answer should be a "no", strung out with certainty- with no doubt whatsoever. He just couldn't understand why he was hesitating, why he _wanted_ to kiss him. After straining to keep his eyes from looking at Sherlock's lips, he tried his best to deflect... whatever was going on here.

"You can't be seri-"

"Ten." Sherlock said, emotionless yet with an edge of determination, masterfully hiding his fear. John just stayed where he was, not even sure if he was breathing. He couldn't look away from Sherlock, couldn't turn and leave the room. What w-

"Nine." Sherlock said, anxiety started to show through his eyes. He wasn't sure if he could count all the way down to zero; the embarrassment of rejection would be too much for him. He was regretting even starting this bloody count-down; it was like counting down to the end of their friendship. 

John's brain was obviously off somewhere else. He felt like a man shoved into the pilot's seat with no idea how to fly. Deep down he knew he couldn't let this slip, he couldn't let his chance go.

"Ei-" was all Sherlock could say before his lips were clamped forcefully onto John's. He had no idea what to do except to close his eyes. He didn't expect John's lips to feel the way they did- soft and warm. They broke a dam of withheld emotion within him and the kiss was much more emotional than he had calculated. He didn't know what his hands were doing, dangling awkwardly at his sides, but John's groan indicated he must have been doing something right. With John's hands placed gently at the sides of his head, he finally understood what all the fuss was about, why people repeatedly did it. He used to think he would never be kissed, so he enjoyed it while he could and grasped the front of John's jumper, pulling him even closer.

Footsteps. The angry slam of a door. John pulled back. 

He had only gotten five seconds of John's kiss. That wasn't enough. After staring at each other for a moment, both with a look of 'I can't believe that just happened', John muttered a quick "I'm sorry." before dashing out the room shouting "No!" and "Emma!" and "Wait!".

Sherlock didn't want to lie to himself- he felt a bit empty. Not in a 'sociopath' kind of way; he just felt... hollow. He didn't blame John for running off, he knew his brain was just muddled after what Sherlock had forced him into. Maybe that was a bit not good. All he could do was sit on his bed and stare at the door, replaying the five seconds over and over in his mind, torturing himself.

Two days had past and Sherlock's guilt had grown massively. He had come to the conclusion that he should have given John time to figure himself out, but on the other hand... it had been two years! How much longer did he need?!

Staring into his microscope, he tried to not jump when he heard the door open.

"Where did you sleep?" Sherlock asked, keeping his head down.

"Greg's."

Silence. John sighed.

"Lestrade's." He clarified. All he got was a hum. He was grateful for Greg's hospitality; he knew exactly how John was feeling and was a bit angry at Sherlock for doing what he did. Also, though he didn't say this to John, he was glad that at least _one_ of them had done something about the obvious tension between them.

"Sherlock." John said, braver now than he was before. Sherlock whipped his head up, a little embarrassed by his eagerness. "I've been doing some thinking." Sherlock had to use a lot of will power to refrain from rolling his eyes or saying "Hope that didn't hurt" or both. Even he knew this wasn't the time. He turned his body towards John, who was still hovering by the door, to let him know he was listening.

"I think I might, well, quite understandably come to think of i-"

"-John."

"Right. Sorry. I... do want a relationship. With you." He murmured. Greg had helped him come to that. Forty-eight hours, a lot of wine and a myriad of tears later, he finally got his act straight. Well... got his act _together_. He knew it was time to take action.

Sherlock's facade fell, replaced by a man who had just had the rug pulled from under his feet. He had been going through all the outcomes in his head whilst John was away. They had all ended in John moving out or their friendship damaged beyond repair. He wouldn't have blamed him either. He just did not anticipate this.

With nothing witty to say, he could only breath out a silent "Are you serious?" The sound of his wavering voice however snapped him out of it. He was being too emotional, he wasn't ready for that yet. Startled by the tears forming in his eyes, he swiftly wiped them away with the back of his hand, cleared his throat, and stood up- chin raised with a proud stature. His facade was back up and running.

John pretended not to see Sherlock's moment of weakness; Sherlock didn't want to be seen like that. Not yet. Instead, he straightened up as well. "Of course I'm sure." John reassured, confidently. "We just need to talk about what we both want from it. Come and sit over here." John said, gesturing to the couch. Sherlock nodded before striding over and keeping an unusual amount of distance from John when he sat.

"So... what do you... want? From me?" He said. God he was so awkward. Get it together Watson.

"Well, I think I should start by saying this." He said, turning himself more towards John. "Despite my reluctance to admit it I've always been infatuated with you. Always. I've just never attempted to act on it as I thought you were like all the others; I thought my admiration was unrequited. Well now that it's not, and despite my lack of experience, I suppose this" he said, taking John's hand, "is okay?"

John ran his thumb over the back of Sherlock's fingers, enjoying the warm feeling. He had always wanted to hold Sherlock's hand; watching him play the violin was the most beautiful thing on Earth. He couldn't believe how much time they had wasted. Sherlock's eyes were transfixed by their joined hands, his mind blocking out the room and focusing his attention on John's touch alone. After John gave his hand a squeeze, he looked up to see a shy smile on his face.

"I got offended when you kept calling me an idiot." John started, though his smile never faltered, "I understand why now; I really was an idiot for not... doing something about us. I really want this to go well so... I think we should go slow. If... you're alright with that?"

"Of course, John." Sherlock nodded, still a bit distracted by John's hand. "What is stage one of a relationship?"

"Oh. Well, uh, a date I suppose."

Sherlock shot up and towards his coat, sliding it on elegantly. He then grabbed John's coat and chucked it in John's face. John didn't care, it would take a hell of a lot to take the smile off his face. "We don't have t-" John tried to say, taking the coat off his head, but then looked up to see Sherlock was already down the stairs.

John's slow and Sherlock's slow were two completely different slows. Either way, they were finally heading in the right direction.


	2. The Date

Angelo's. 

It had to be. 

Technically, it wasn't their anniversary anymore, but it seemed like the perfect place for them to spend their first date. Sherlock waited until they were seated away from everyone else before holding John's hand under the table. When he and John were... well, whatever they were, he had to keep his distance. Now that he was allowed this, he couldn't stop. Wouldn't. And by the content look on Sherlock's face, John didn't want him to.

"Now. What do couples talk about on dates?" Sherlock asked, leaning forward slightly. He wanted this to be perfect.

"Anything you want, Sherlock." John smiled, still blushing slightly at the fact Sherlock had referred to them as a couple.

After repeatedly telling Sherlock to order something, they ate and they talked and they laughed in between. Their conversations hadn't changed much, it was just that now they didn't have to hold back; now they could hold eye contact for as long as they pleased. Sherlock was currently amusing John with his impression of Mycroft.

"Brother dear," he said, mimicking Mycroft's voice dramatically, "I'm much much smarter than you. I don't need friends. I've got cake." John snorted before saying "Don't forget the classic 'We both know I'm mummy's favorite'." Sherlock laughed then said "I'm sure I've heard him say that before." Yes, people were looking at them: they were making a lot of noise, but they couldn't care less. It'd been a while since they'd laughed like that.

They finished their food and it was around ten minutes later when John noticed a change in Sherlock. His eyes kept darting to the right and when they weren't, they were staring at the table.

"You alright?" John asked tentatively. "We don't have to do this, you know?"

Sherlock's head shot up and his eyes widened with shock. "No, John! No, no, no I want to be here." He eagerly tried to convince John. That did nothing to ease John's nerves. "Is this too boring?" John tried again, not at all angry at him but a little embarrassed: he thought he was enjoying himself. "No, John. Absolutely not. I love this. It's just... I've noticed the man three tables to the right of us is one of London's biggest drug dealers. Look at his left sleeve; he's going to be making one of his most expensive deals yet. Tonight. In about four minutes."

John's face lit up in excitement, already getting his fix of adrenaline. He put down the spoon he was fiddling with and grabbed the coat on the back of his chair. "Bloody hell. Then what are we waiting for?"

"Uh... our dessert?" Sherlock asked timidly.

Oh.

John had forgotten they were on a date. He knew by the sheepish look on Sherlock's face that he really wanted to go too, so he reached over the table to hold Sherlock's forearm. "Sherlock, it's okay. I won't be mad if we leave. It's been perfect. But this is you and me, detective and blogger and over there is a drug dealer. Now, what do I need to do?"

Sherlock's smile broke his anxious expression.

After Sherlock had explained the plan, his face animated and gestures wild as his hands zipped around the place, John frowned. The plan was to split up. One of them down one alley and the other down another. After explaining his apprehensions to Sherlock, Sherlock assured him that doing it would improve their chances of catching the dealer.

So, that's where John was- down an alley waiting for a Walter White Wannabe. He had been down there for a while and so figured that Sherlock had caught him. 

Probably.

Impatient and convinced it was over, he began his trek towards Sherlock's alley. Despite being quite a distance away, he could see Sherlock leaning against the wall. With someone else next to him?

Wait.

Sherlock was being dangled against the wall. By his neck. He was being strangled!

"Sherlock!" John screamed, almost tripping over his feet as he sprinted towards him. His side and lungs burned. He didn't notice, of course; he was too busy cursing the gods for taking Sherlock away just when he finally had him. He was too busy planning the murder of the man slowly asphyxiating him. He was too busy watching Sherlock's struggles weaken the closer John got.

Slowly, the figures began to grow. Sherlock had definitely stopped moving now, relying only on John to save him. John's vision began to blur, the wind stinging against his eyes as he dashed forward. When John reached him, he ran his shoulder into the dealer's side, sending them flying to the ground. Sherlock managed to stay on his feet, back leaning heavily against the wall. Between heaving breaths, he tried to call John's name, but John was too busy calling the dealer a bastard, punching him again and again and again until he was unconscious. His knuckles burned and ached but it still wasn't enough to put out his anger.

"John." Sherlock tried again, hands rubbing his throat in an attempt to soothe the burning. John jumped up and ran to Sherlock, grabbing him by his arms.

"Oh God. Christ Sherlock, breathe. Deep breaths, come on." John coached, watching helplessly as Sherlock bent over with his hands on his knees. Sherlock nearly toppled over, John catching him just before he could. "Alright, it's alright." John said, the worry evident in his voice. After rubbing his back, Sherlock's breaths' began to slow. He then, as if nothing had happened, stood up straight. "I'm fine." He croaked out.

"Lift your head up." John instructed, still not satisfied that he was. When Sherlock made no attempt to do so, John sighed and moved Sherlock's head up by his chin. There were bruises forming around his neck but it didn't look too bad. Thank God. 

_Now_ John could be angry.

"I bloody told you it was a bad idea, but no! Sherlock Holmes doesn't listen to anyone, the cock. If I hadn't have come when I did, this would have ended very differently." John shouted, feeling a bit sick. That was a hell of a run. "You can't keep doing things like this on your own; it's selfish. I could have lost you. Then what would I have done?" John finished, his tone softened. He then brought Sherlock into a hug by his shoulders, mindful of his neck.

"Thank you." Sherlock mumbled, his voice muffled by John's shoulder.

"It's alright." John replied.

Back at the flat, Sherlock was being swarmed by a multitude of blankets. They were unnecessary in his eyes but in John's they were comforting. Every four hours, John would bring him painkillers, a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead. Sherlock loved it. After a few moments of silence, he had a question.

"What's stage two of a relationship?" John looked up from his laptop with a frown. "Um... uh... I don't know. A second date? They don't really work in stages." He said, a little amused by Sherlock's curiosity.

Sherlock turned his nose up at that. "I think I'll be put off dates for a while." he decided, fingers dabbing the bruises on his neck. John couldn't really blame him.

"Crap telly and cuddles?" John suggested, smiling softly.

"If we must." Sherlock sighed, hiding the small smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this after finding out that John met Sherlock on the 29th of January. Perfect timing. This is my interpretation of how they would actually have their first kiss (if mofftiss would _actually_ do it God damn it.) Thank you for reading.


End file.
